


The Lure of Delacour

by tiny_shroom



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, F/F, F/M, Goblet of Fire AU, Very much AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-23 03:47:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4861820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiny_shroom/pseuds/tiny_shroom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tournaments, forbidden spells, and evil wizards she can handle. Veelas on the other hand...that is something Hermione was never prepared for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Princess, The Dragon, and The Granger Girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guys have seen this before it is because I have an account on fanfiction.net and that is like my trial run account. I am revamping this story so it will be pretty different in the later chapters than the original one I posted. Hope you enjoy!

Hermione looks on in disgust as Ron, sitting in front of her, attempts to retell events that occurred earlier in the day with a mouthful of mashed potatoes and a turkey leg in hand. Her eyes do not stay on him for long, already feeling her appetite fading. She focuses on the people around them to see how they are faring with this crude display whilst they eat. To her surprise they are listening, unfazed by how the redhead continues to stuff his mouth with as much of that turkey as he can while still animating his story. Harry is on Ron's right and, although leaning a bit away to avoid any rogue meat that may escape, is listening to his friend quite intently. On Ron’s other side, Ginny just picks apart her own turkey leg quietly, seemingly immune to her brother's bad table manners after so many years of living with him. The twins are laughing beside Hermione as Ron's tale of another one of Seamus' accidents comes to its climax. She narrows her eyes at them in frustration when she realizes they are laughing at their brother, not with him. If only they would stop egging Ron on, maybe she could eat in peace. She knew better than to think the mischievous duo would stop when they are clearly getting their kicks for the evening. Almost at her wit's end, Hermione starts to speak up when she is cut off by a booming voice that silences the entire dining hall.

"Silence!"

All of the students know that voice far too well. Dumbledore is normally a soft-spoken man. His wise tone is enough to capture anyone's attention. In the dining hall, however, even he has to bump it up a notch. With the loud roars of four different houses no one could possibly be heard without the help of magic. That is why the headmaster is standing before them with his wand softly pressed against his neck.

The four long tables of students look on in anticipation, knowing an important announcement must be following the demand since the odd spectacle of two fellow school's arrivals this morning had yet to be explained. As Hermione scans the table holding all of Hogwart's professors a gasp gets caught in her throat. She wonders if any of her fellow Gryffindors have taken notice of the new guest that was sitting to the left of Professor McGonagall. Had she really missed a man as influential as Barty Crouch this entire time? Although there is no way he would have paid any mind to Hermione sitting yards away from him amidst the sea of green, blue, red, and yellow robes she still scolds herself for being so at ease in front of one of the Ministry of Magic's enforcers. Her mind starts to ponder the idea of stalking him out of the Great Hall after dinner to overload him with flattery and questions regarding how to work up to such a high position.

Her thoughts are postponed as the Hall's doors slam shut. Hermione whips her head around just in time to see Filch limp as fast as his old body would allow up to the Headmaster's podium. Dumbledore's exasperation to being interrupted is promptly followed by intense whispering. Confused murmurs and amused giggles fill the room as the two go back and forth. Hermione has never liked to be the last to know something and feels an uneasy sensation creep up her neck. She takes the break in Dumbledore's speech to glance at Harry and Ron who both simultaneously give her a shrug. Then her eyes venture back up to Crouch, finally noticing the nervous tick in his habits after being drug out of her own thoughts. Her attention returns to Filch for a brief moment to see him hobble out of the Dining Hall before settling back on the man beside McGonagall. As Dumbledore begins his speech yet again, Crouch's anxiety seems to grow. It only takes a minute later for Hermione to realize why his presence was necessary, although she could hardly believe her ears.

The Triwizard Tournament was banned ages ago. How is Hogwarts hosting something so...barbaric? How is the Ministry even allowing this? The rationalized thoughts that flow through Hermione's brain are interrupted yet again by the reopening of the ginormous Hall doors, but this intrusion is far more enticing than Filch and his bum leg. As the old wood creaks open the first group of mystery guests are revealed. It is the Beauxbaton's Academy of Magic's girls grouped in their form-fitting blue uniforms accompanied by matching hats and tiny, flitting birds. As the females practically glide down the Great Hall they stop every few steps to give a sensual sigh and lean, left then right then left again. Hermione raises a brow in judgement at the provocative nature of their movements, noticing the heave of their bosoms accompanied by the sashay of their hips as they lean towards her section of the Gryffindor table. Only when she moves her eyes up and makes eye contact with a particular set of steel blue orbs does she realize just how closely she has been looking at this particular girl now parallel to her. Hermione's own chocolate brown eyes are quick to dart down though she cannot fathom a reason as to why. She was simply taking notice of how risque this whole performance is. Maybe it was the small smirk that graced the blonde girl's lips. One that suggests she knows exactly why Hermione had been staring.

She looks up again to see the group prancing away down the aisle to torture some other Hogwarts boys with their charm. After one last big sigh the girls cross one another in two lines that go to either side of the front of the Great Hall. All but a dancer donned in a skin tight suit oddly resembling the design of a bird and the blonde she had made eye contact with who seemed to be the favorite of Madam Maxime. The two girls take a low bow and wear triumphant smiles as the Hall erupts in applause. Hermione gives a clap of her own despite the lack of care that all of the other Hogwarts females were showing the performance. She does not understand why she cannot seem to take her eyes off of the girl that is front and center. Apparently Maxime's favor is not the only one the girl has captured tonight. 

Thinking she might go crazy if she continues with her stares, Hermione busies herself with the contents of her plate. That is when she notices Ginny's dainty hand raise from the corner of her eye. That hand promptly smacks into the back of Ron's head as he is about to practically fall out of his seat from appreciating the girls from behind. Her hit earns quite a loud protest from the freckled male. Just as he is demanding to know what such an act of abuse from his younger sister was about, the second group enters. Loud bangs and an ominous chant, belonging more to soldiers than to students, kill the wistful mood that the Beauxbaton girls so generously created.

The Durmstrang Institute have a much different entrance planned from the feminine mystique of their predecessors. Every time their staffs make contact with the ground the noise ricochets off of every corner of the vast refectory. After the boys, or men rather, appear to be satisfied with the silence that has overtaken the students they lay down their staffs and take off in a sprint down the aisle. Hermione does not know when her lips parted in wonder, but the area between them widens when the favorite champion of Durmstrang enters at Igor Karkaroff's side. Maybe it is his piercing dark eyes or the strong, prideful strides he takes down the aisle...something about the Bulgarian Seeker makes the room suddenly seem far too warm for comfort. She takes a deep breath to calm herself, feeling ashamed for getting this bothered over someone from that infamous school. That is, until Ron mutters "Victor Krum" in such admiration only a lover, or extreme Quidditch fan, could muster. For the rest of the boys' performance she tries to sit as aloof as possible.

The flamed snake was a bit excessive anyway, Hermione thinks as she battles with her admiration for the Seeker.

Following the ornate display, the Beauxbaton girls and Durmstrang boys sits with Ravenclaw and Slytherin respectively. Hermione seems to have no control over her body tonight because the cursed tingling sensation that is overtaking her every nerve ending will not fade away. As hard as she tries to listen to Dumbledore's speech or care about the age restriction that had followed, she just couldn't get past the fogginess of her mind. A half hour goes past in white noise. Her eyes are on her friends, excited expressions lighting their faces, but she could be more disengaged. That changes when an electric jolt ascends up her back at the same time a certain French accent flows to her ears. Hermione freezes in place, eyes widening for just a moment before biting her tongue to regain her senses. Maxime's prize must have snuck up on everyone by the looks on their faces; Ginny annoyed, Ron drooling, and Harry grinning from ear to ear. The blue-dressed beauty places a gentle hand on Ron's shoulder.

"Excusez moi. The connards[1] over there have eaten the best dish on the table," the blonde's voice turns from one of disdain to enchanting, "may we have some of your bouillabaisse?"

Harry could see Ron's nervous stuttering start to irk the Beauxbaton goddess. He offers the entire bowl from their own table in a moment of panic, not at his full wits either. She gives a haughty smile in thanks and is about to turn away with the bowl as Ginny's fire bubbles to the top.

"Bloody hell, Harry. You can't just give her the entire thing! I wasn't finished yet! Who are you to come over and just take Gryffindor's things anyway? Go back to those stupid birds."  
Ron huffs and nudges his sister's side with his elbow, "Ginny...”

Hermione's eyes go wide once more. Ginny grew up with a band of brothers in the house. She could not really be mad at someone taking more than their share of food. Besides, the skinny girl stopped eating a while ago. That is when Hermione notices Ginny's death glare at Harry. The puzzle pieces then set themselves into place. This has less to do with Harry giving away the French dish and more over the way he is looking at the French belle.

She scoffs a quick retort, "I am Fleur Delacour, Beauxbaton's top student and soon-to-be Triwizard champion," her eyes narrow, "Ginny is it? I would hold your tongue."

Afraid that this may turn into an all-out battle, Hermione places her hand over her friend's, shaking her head. "The year has just started, Gryffindor does not need to lose any points over some fish in soup."

With a smirk and a wink pointed straight at the brunette, Fleur says to Ginny, "Je kiffe ton ami[2]. Maybe you should be more like her," before swaying back to her table with the satisfaction of winning.

Ignoring the younger girl's frustrated remarks about the situation at hand, Hermione takes back her hand and places it in her lap alongside the other one. She can feel herself lose interest in her friends' conversation again and looks around the room to see how the other students are doing with the new additions. That is when she notices Krum's intense stare pointed right at her. He must be the one driving me insane, she rationalizes.

Concluding that he is the culprit for her body being in such shambles she breaks their eye contact. Despite Hermione repeating that fact over and over in her head like a mantra, her eyes somehow drift back to another familiar face. Something in her causes her to lock onto the girl amongst the Ravenclaw students like a beacon. It is only when George snaps his fingers in front of her face that her eyes tear away from the blonde.

"Earth to Hermione…you of all people can settle this. Which is better to use in a duel: Anteoculatia or Rictasempra[3]?"

The younger girl rolls her eyes at the twins. Secretly thankful for the distraction, she feeds into the ridiculous discussion. If anything could preoccupy her mind it is an argument about magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Basically translates into "assholes" or a similar curse word  
> [2] "I like your friend"  
> [3] Hair turns into antlers or tickling spell


	2. Obligation and Irritation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you like this. I don't know what it is about FleurxHermione, but it intrigues me. Happy reading!

Hermione shakes her head and reopens her book on  _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. She warned the worrisome twins to the best of her ability. If they wish to proceed with their ridiculous plan anyway then she wants no part in it. As the duo make an overzealous display of drinking their aging potions Hermione tries to keep her focus on how to properly train a Niffler.

A small sigh comes from the girl when she hears cheering and a sort of battle cry from the Weasley troublemakers. Despite her best efforts, she glances up at Fred and George who are now standing in the circle unharmed.  _Just a matter of time. Five..._ The two raise their arms up to signal more cheering is needed.  _Four._ "Ready," one says to the other just before they toss both of their parchments into the blue flames.  _Three._ They share a glance as their names are disintegrated, officially marking them in the running.  _Two._ After a second of deafening silence the crowd erupts into yet another naive cheer.  _One._  Hermione's lips turn up into a small smirk as the fire goes in all different directions before hitting Fred and George with just enough force to land them out of the age circle and right on their asses.

Growing to an age much too wise-looking for the two, they are forced to realize how horribly their plan has failed. With a roll of her eyes Hermione tries yet again to go back to reading the book in her lap. She does a decent job at drowning out the sounds of fighting teenage geezers. It is the silence that Viktor Krum brings on simply by walking into the room that makes Hermione give up on learning about the treasure-hunting beasts.

After shutting the book, far more delicately this time, and placing it to her side she watches him pass. The brunette quietly admires his prideful strut that makes the crowd part all the way to the goblet. No one utters a word, too stunned by the seeker's presence. As the broad Durmstrang student places his name into the flames his eyes meet Hermione's. For just a moment she could have sworn his brooding features relaxed into the briefest of smiles, one she felt obligated to return.

The moment he leaves confusion sweeps over her. Obligation is the same thing she felt towards him at the feast.  _I need air._ Sweeping the book under her arm as she stands, she gives her companions a slight nod before making her way to the door. Not having the pleasure of exuding Viktor's presence, Hermione weaves haphazardly through the crowd of students. As soon as she thinks she is in the clear, she makes contact with a tall silhouette that sends her book flying out from the safety of her arm and onto the floor. Letting out a slight grunt on impact, she immediately bends down to retrieve the book as if it were gold.

Her extreme aggravation towards the jostling crowd in the room makes her miss the French lilt coming from above. It is not until the blonde bends down herself that Hermione has a chance to recognize the culprit. A hand touches her own when she goes for the book, sending a shock up her arm that travels throughout her entire body. The sudden sensation makes Hermione fall back on her bum which earns a small giggle from the girl safely on her knees in front of her. This sends fire through the proud Gryffindor's veins. Hermione ignores Fleur's helpful hand and pushes herself up off the ground. With one glare aimed down at the girl, Fleur’s laughter halts. The Beauxbaton girl raises a brow, her amusement now mixed with bewilderment, as she watches the brunette stomp off.

Now clutching the book tight to her chest, Hermione mumbles to herself, "Could she be any more of a..."

She lets out a big huff when no insults come to mind. The walls blur around her as her pace quickens, her vision only focusing on what is straight ahead. Seething in silence, she steps onto a moving staircase.  _Why do I even care?_ She taps her fingers on the book as she searches for an answer. She was never one to hate someone because of a friend so the problem could not be Ginny's irritation towards the Beauxbaton beauty. However, Hermione has not seen the girl since the night of their entrance. Passings in the hall cannot count, considering Fleur is always surrounded by a gang of blue hats that only let Hermione catch mere glances. She has not had an opportunity to develop anything other than indifference for the fellow student.

Seeing too late that she had been caught up in her thoughts, Hermione misses her stop on the stairs.  _Could this get any worse?_  She soon comes to realize it can, and does, when a small, transparent man with that familiar orange bow tie pops out through the wall right beside her. Instead of letting out a frightened gasp that the infamous poltergeist usually receives upon arrival, she swats through him, ignoring the chill that comes with the act. "Not now, Peeves."

"Why it's the Granger girl," Peeves states with a mischievous grin, "always so tightly wound...especially when she hits the ground!"

The reference to what just happened makes Hermione's face become red with a combination of anger and embarrassment. "I'll sick the Bloody Baron on you, Peeves! Now," she whacks him as hard as she can with her book, "scram!"

His body simply dissipates around the attack. Hermione turns her head back and forth, her brown strands whipping in her face, as she readies herself for the poltergeist's retaliation. The book shifts to one hand to free her other to grab her wand. Upon hearing his ominous cackles fade up the staircase she lets out a breath of relief she did not realize she was holding in. The last thing she needs is Peeves' annoying rhymes and pranks. This is why she is sure to catch the right way down the stairs this time, thankful for one good thing finally happening.

\-------

\-------

Making her way down the hall to her safe haven for when she feels overwhelmed, Hermione keeps her head lowered as she walks. All she needs is peace and quiet. Something she knows she will not obtain if anyone notices her and tries to strike up a conversation. She is not even sure if she would be able to think enough to form words since she hasn't slept properly in nearly a week. Every time she would try she would just wake up an hour later covered in sweat and this odd sensation of unwanted bliss.  _How am I supposed to be studying for the herbology exam if I keep having dreams-or nightmares-that I cannot remember?_

As her fingers wrap around the familiar cold of the brass handle of the library doors she lets out a relieved sigh. A smile even begins to appear at the sound of the creaking oak and the old hinges giving way.  _Free at last._  Most would think quite differently surrounded by the towering book cases and the eerie silence enforced by the librarian, Madam Irma Pince. Hermione, however, could not wait to see the pinched-faced woman. She makes her way to Pince's desk to see what goodies she has for Hermione this visit.

Upon reaching her destination she realizes the woman is nowhere in sight. She calls out her name, barely over a whisper in fear of her reprimands, "Madam Pince?"

Hermione chews on her bottom lip, having enough of rotten luck of this past week has brought. "This is ridic-"

Her sentence is stopped short as she turns around and nearly collides with the same blue-dressed Beauxbaton as before. She rolls her shoulders back to stand a bit straighter, subconsciously hoping to match the slightly taller girl's height. Her lips set into a thin line at the same time Fleur's curve up into a haughty smile.

"No need to get anxious. Madam has gone to fetch me a book about-" Fleur's smile falters as she has to choose her next words rather carefully, "large reptiles."

Hermione, too caught up in her uneasiness at the close proximity to the girl and inability to back away due to the tall desk behind her, does not take notice of the slip. She simply scoffs, "'Fetch'? It is no secret what you think of this school, but Madam Pince is-"

"Did someone call my name?" The librarian takes her seat behind the wooden fortress, a small tsk coming from her, "Miss Granger, as much as I enjoy the admiration, you know the rules about the volume level in my library."

Fleur's smile grows and Hermione sees laughter dancing behind those blue orbs just before she turns to apologize to her superior. Madam Pince responds with a short, shooing wave of her hand and hands Hermione a stack of reptilian literature. "Take them and leave me, child, I have much to attend to and your friend here has already taken up enough of my time."

Just as Hermione was going to point out the obvious of the little friendship between her and the girl watching on in amusement behind her, Madam Pince gives her infamous stare, her glasses resting on the edge of her nose, which causes Hermione to turn around and cut her losses. When she does so she has the intense displeasure of shifting the books in her hands to see the blonde walking off to a table by the window.  _Who does she think she is?_

Knowing she would get scolded once more if she left the books, she stalks over to the table and, with all of her willpower, barely manages to not slam them down in front of the sitting girl. "That was nice of you, Hermione," the same smile is plastered on Fleur's face as she speaks, "thank you."

Hermione's eyes narrow and her tongue runs across the back of her teeth, seething in silence for only a moment before laying into the cocky blonde, "I am not your pack mule, Fleur Delacour. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going far away from you before you ruin the only sanctuary I have left."

This sudden burst of outrage makes Fleur reach for Hermione as she goes to leave, her delicate fingers wrapping around Hermione's small wrist. As the Gryffindor twists back around she makes a move to jerk her wrist away, only making Fleur hold on tighter, the playfulness in her eyes darkening. "What have I done to upset you so, ma chérie?"

This question hit Hermione like a ton of bricks. It is the same one she has been asking herself since the night of the Triwizard announcement dinner. Even Harry, who has enough on his plate with being the most hated guy in Hogwarts for getting into the tournament the night before, ambushed her in the hall earlier that morning asking if Fleur had done anything to her that they should know about.

That is when it dawns on her. Hermione takes the Beauxbaton girl's hand to pry it off of her wrist and immediately lets it go as if her touch had burned her.

"Have you asked my friends that same question?" Hermione quirks an eyebrow as she asks, not knowing whether to feel flattered or stalked.

The surprise that overtakes Fleur's features tell Hermione everything she needs to know. The brunette shakes her head and lets out a small, unamused chuckle. "I will tell you,  _ma chérie._ You tear down Hogwarts when I bet my schoolmates could beat half of you Beauxbaton flirts in any subject. You think you're better, but you're no better than...than…"

In her flustered speech a cold voice comes to her assistance behind her, "than a mudblood. Isn't that right, Granger?"

The familiar taunting laugh makes Hermione clench her fists. It only takes Fleur a moment to realize the insult in his words. "In the wrong part of the school, aren't you Malfoy?" Hermione slows her words a bit as if talking to a toddler, "This place is only for people who can read."

Malfoy sneers as his two lackeys, Crabbe and Goyle, snicker behind him. "Shut it you twats."

He smacks them both upside their heads and continues on his way with nothing more than a glare towards the Gryffindor.

After they are out of sight, Hermione, though keeping a straight face, has fury in her eyes. All she wanted was tranquility in the one spot she thought as her own. She gives a long look to Fleur, but does not announce her departure before making a quick march to the opposite end of the library.

Thinking it wise to leave the Granger girl alone, Fleur falls back in her seat with this new information. A small smile reappears on her full lips as she contemplates a friendship with the unique girl. After all, she is technically not pure blood herself. Being half veela is something she could use to get closer to the brunette.  _What fun this will be._ Fleur decides to leave that fun for later, opening up the first of the many books in desperate attempt to find out how the bloody hell she was going to fight a dragon.


	3. Two Sides of the Same Coin

A jolt of pleasure forces Hermione's grip on the sheets tighten, her chest heaving.  _By the gods..more.._  She manages to free one hand to run it down the broad back of the source of her arousal. Viktor Krum's rhythmic movements match the timing of his warm breath against her ear. His powerful groan echoes as Hermione's nails leave a trail of deep red marks. Her eyes shut and her hands return to the satin around her, bringing the fabric to her mouth to bite down, willing herself to last just a bit longer. The friction becomes far too much for the young witch to bear. Her hips buck in attempt to increase the fervent speed and she hears an odd sound, almost like an airy chuckle, come from her lover. Hermione grinds her teeth across the sheets as the laughter vibrates through her every nerve ending and heightens the sensations, making them almost unbearable. Hermione's hands search for her lover once more. However, this time her fingers thread through thick locks between her legs. She opens her eyes, too gone to have enough sense to be confused, as she meets the gaze of the French blonde working her tongue diligently inside of her.

With her climax, Hermione sits up, chest heaving. She runs her fingers through her hair to get the damp strands off of her forehead before sliding her hand down to cup her face, only now realizing how heated she is. Her already pink cheeks burn a deeper shade of crimson when she remembers her roommates. A grateful sigh escapes her lips when she looks around to see their beds empty and she lays back.  _How do I manage to go to bed early and still feel exhausted? I've got to do something about these nightmares._ If only she could remember them. She grumbles to herself, "Got to get up," she stands, "No use trying to sleep it off."

Hermione gathers her toiletries while trying her best to ignore the pressure between her legs. She makes her way to the Gryffindor's lavatory, still weak from her unexplained nocturnal whereabouts. As she rounds the corner to the washroom's entrance she is greeted by Lavender Brown against a wall with an unknown Ravenclaw boy attacking her neck with kisses. Hermione's jaw drops, to which Lavender just replies with a wink before continuing as if no one else were there. Hermione looks around and shuffles her feet a bit, not sure what to do.  _Do I just...or do I…oh, this is ridiculous._ She decides to walk straight by the pair, causing the boy to finally take notice of her and stop to watch on in admiration mixed with surprise of the fact that Hermione still makes her way to the showers as if nothing were wrong.  _Not going to let their snogging keep me from proper hygiene._

Quite an odd sensation clings to Hermione as she sheds her clothes after taking an extra look to make sure that Ravenclaw was not anywhere near. A flash of Viktor Krum riding her last night invades her thoughts as she steps into the shower and turns one of the handles. This causes her to freeze for a moment and miss the opportunity to get out of the way of the cold water that rushes out of the shower-head. "That's just brilliant," Hermione curses aloud.

"You know what they say about karma," Lavender's singsong voice comes from behind the brunette, "You made my fun run away."

She managed to sneak up on Hermione and is now standing just outside of the shower with the curtain pulled away. In a last ditch effort at some ounce of modesty, Hermione yanks the curtain partway closes so she can use it to cover herself up to her chest.

"Oh, don't be such a tart, Granger. Nothing I haven't seen before," Lavender huffs and starts to leave, adding before doing so, "You owe me. Remember that."

As soon as Lavender disappears, Hermione rests her back on the cold wall, hoping the shocking temperature difference will calm her down. She lets the curtain fall open again in the comfort of being alone and leans her head back, focusing on the droplets of water descending upon her.

Not even seconds after her eyes close she hears an approving remark. "Actually not what I've seen before," Hermione's eyes open wide to see Lavender's head poking around the wall that conceals the showers, "Nice work, Granger."

Lavender giggles as Hermione throws the first thing she could get her hands on, resulting in a bar of soap flying at the older Gryffindor's head. Lavender dodges the soap with ease and hums as she struts out of the lavatory. "I give you an A-minus, Granger!"

Hermione, preferring not to get a grade from anyone else, rushes to close the shower curtain. She immediately starts to lather her body. As nice as the water feels she does not want to be caught in the shower by Lavender if she decides to enact more torture for her interrupted morning events.

After getting herself as presentable as she could manage, Hermione makes her way to the Great Hall, hoping to at least catch lunch since she had clearly slept through breakfast. She looks around for a familiar face and spots Ginny in the company of two older Gryffindors. The young Weasley girl catches Hermione's confused demeanor as she approaches the trio and promptly introduces them to her. Hermione gives a polite smile, but pays them no further mind, finding it far more important to gather a napkin full of food to eat in the courtyard.

Ginny notices her friend walking off after silently hoarding food, completely ignoring the nice guys in front of her. She excuses herself and rushes after the brunette.

"Hey," Ginny grabs her arm as she catches up to her just outside the Great Hall, "what was all that about?"

Hermione rolls her eyes and pushes back the memory of Fleur doing a familiar act in the library, "Why does everyone keep grabbing me?"

Ginny shrugs off the older girl's attitude and lets out a small laugh, "Woke up on the wrong side of the bed I see. The tall one kept looking at you, ya know."

"He was not," Hermione replies shortly.

"Oh, whatever, we both know he was. The only way you wouldn't notice is...if you had someone else on your mind," a grin overtakes the Ginny’s face as she links arms with Hermione and accompanies her to the courtyard uninvited.

At that, Hermione lets out a laugh of her own, "Please. I have exams and such to worry about, not-" she crinkles her nose in disgust, Viktor's strong image invading her mind, "boys."

Ginny lets out a whine, "But the Yule Ball..."

Just as Hermione is about to go into a long explanation of the misogynistic nature of the event, something more important catches Ginny's attention. She gives a brief goodbye kiss to the brunette's cheek before bounding off to other Gryffindors in her year.

Not surprised by the Weasley knack for short attention spans, Hermione does not give the sudden departure a second thought. Instead, she simply makes her way to a free table in the middle of the courtyard. She unwraps her napkin of goodies, thanking Merlin that it was not a day of classes. Just as she is about to devour a sandwich she notices a certain blonde tucked away at a table in the corner of the courtyard. Hermione glances down at her sandwich with her mouth watering then back at the worried girl. "Oh, for goodness sake."

She gathers her lunch back into the napkin and makes her way over to the Beauxbaton. Not saying a word, Hermione takes a seat opposite Fleur and offers her half of the sandwich.

Giving into a moment of shock at the younger girl's boldness, Fleur's face then sets into a prideful sneer. She looks at the simplistic sandwich with extreme discontent. "Why even eat something so poorly made?"

Hermione quirks a brow, not fazed by the comment she already assumed was coming, "Because it is good." The Gryffindor takes a small bite out of it in spite of her ungrateful demeanor.

Fleur's eyes narrow, "I'd rather starve."

Figuring her day could not get any worse, Hermione decides to find humor in the French girl's comment. "Starve if you must, but then you won't be able to beat the boys in this competition."

Shock momentarily overtakes Fleur's pale features once more as she responds carefully, not wishing to ruin Hermione’s seemingly to-good-to-be-true mood, "You shouldn't be rooting for the enemy, ma chère (1). The others might call treason."

Hermione allows a laugh to escape her lips after quickly finishing off half of the sandwich, "I hardly think anyone will find out considering you would die before admitting to your cult that you actually carried on a real conversation with a Hogwarts student. A younger year, no less."

A sigh comes from Fleur as she shakes her head, "What have I done to make you believe that I think so little of you?"

Seriousness sets into Hermione's voice, "Maybe the way to snarl at every aspect of this school. Or the way you coldly turn down every single boy who asks you to the Yule Ball. Or-" Hermione holds up the other remaining half of the sandwich, smiling once more, "-the way you cannot even bring yourself to eat the food I so graciously offered."

Fleur gives the girl across from her a long look, wondering to herself why she has been so enticed by the Gryffindor. "Fine." She snatches the sandwich from Hermione's grasp and gulps, raising her nose at the monstrosity, before taking a quick, reluctant bite.

Now it is Hermione's turn to be surprised, biting her lip in attempt to hold back any amusement from Fleur's reaction to eating the food. After the deed is done she takes the sandwich back carefully as if it might burn the French girl if she holds it much longer, "Was it really that bad?"

Fleur replies with a nod, "Almost as bad as the boys you mentioned who keep nagging me about this silly dance."

Hermione rests her chin on her palm to feign indifference, "Poor Fleur, getting asked out by every male in a one-hundred yard radius. That's dreadful."

The older girl simply motions to a group of boys a few feet away that seem to be more around her year and notes, "They have all been standing there staring at me for fifteen minutes now. Which means I only have about five minutes to sneak away before one of them 'gathers their courage'."

Hermione glances behind her to see that she is not exaggerating. The mixture of Ravenclaw and Gryffindor boys are practically in a huddle, shoving each other towards the table with the golden prize: the unobtainable Beauxbaton champion. So vexed by how loopy the boys seem to be acting, Hermione does not even notice Fleur gather her things until she feels a hand on her arm lifting her up.

"Come on," Fleur commands, "now we have two minutes."

Whether she likes it or not, Hermione is lifted to her feet by the slender girl's surprising strength. A sense of excitement overtakes the brunette as she rushes out of the courtyard with Fleur. Another command comes from the blonde, "Don't look back."

In pure childish defiance Hermione glances back over her shoulder and soon wishes she hadn't. The simple glance seems to be all the invitation half the boys need to follow the two girls. Fleur notices the scene Hermione has causes and quickens her pace in panic, "See? I told you not to look back. Stubborn girl."

Hermione feels a pang of guilt when she realizes the inconvenience her presence has brought. She only wanted to have cheered up the Beauxbaton. The mob behind them was definitely not in her plans for the afternoon. She decides to do what she does best, to take charge, "Follow me."

She grabs Fleur’s hand as she takes the lead, weaving them through the lines of students heading out to enjoy the fresh air. After making it through the doors back into the castle Hermione asks in a hopeful tone, "Are they gone?"

Fleur replies with a slightly irritated no and encourages Hermione to have a better plan to which Hermione replies, "Run!"

The pair speeds down the hall, rousing a few pictures along the walls. Hermione leads them into a quick turn, heading straight for the Charms classroom with the knowledge of Professor Flitwick's noon stroll to the Infirmary to flirt with one of the nurses. Before the boys have a chance to catch up Hermione pulls Fleur into the empty classroom and pins her against the wall.

"Why are we stopping?"

Hermione throws a hand over the girl's mouth before she can finish her question, letting go of her hand to put a finger to her own lips in a motion for the blonde to stay quiet. The silence leaves the girls with nothing to do but stare at one another and await their fates, chests heaving from the sudden sprint. Hermione slowly lowers her hand from the taller girl's mouth, but keeps her stance in front of her, body frozen at the sound of pattering feet and confused mumbles of the half-wit boys. Both girls have amusement dancing in their eyes at the remarks from the group just on the other side of the wall. Soon, one is smart enough to give up the search, figuring it useless anyways, and the others join him in leaving back down the hall.

The moment they are sure to be safe, both girls give into their fit of nervous laughter. Fleur is the first to regain her senses, her laughter fading into a small chuckle as she asks, "How did you know they would not come looking in here?"

The brunette, however, loses her will to speak when the familiar tune from the blonde makes the fragmented memories from her dream with Viktor come back in whole. "You...we..." Hermione shakes her head and takes a step back.

A frown crosses Fleur's face, worried at the sudden distance. "Hermione?"

That is when it hits the younger girl. All of those dreams-no, nightmares-come flooding into her mind as if some spell keeping them hidden has been broken. Hermione runs a hand through her hair, the sensations that felt so real overwhelming her once more.  _They all started the same. Viktor making advances, and then Fleur-_

She looks on in horror at the girl in front of her, the girl responsible for those sleepless nights. It makes no sense. She hardly knows the girl and she is most certainly not…no, Fleur must have done something.

Hermione, unable to contain herself, exclaims, "Those dreams…what are you? What have you done to me?"

Fleur's mouth opens, no words managing to come out. For the first time in her life someone has rendered her completely speechless. They were having such a good time, there is no explanation for the Gryffindor's erratic behavior.  _Except...oh no, not on her. It can’t have possibly gotten to her. She’s a female, this isn’t supposed to happen._

She reaches out to touch Hermione in hopes of coaxing her out of her anger, "please let me explain, ma chère."

In a flurry of panic and confusion Hermione slaps Fleur’s hand away. "Stay away from me."

The Gryffindor rushes out of the unoccupied classroom and down the hall, back to where the slew of boys had just been.

Fleur is quick to follow, but finds it difficult to do so when she reaches the outside halls and sees Hermione go straight through the love-sick fools. Her cold, blank glare sets back in as a protective shield to deter any guy that might think he has the courage to speak to her.

"Stubborn..." Fleur rushes back inside to find one of her friends, hoping they have an explanation for what just happened. Never has she heard of her veela affecting another girl. Much to her disdain, it only ever drew in boys her entire life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, I hope you enjoyed this! Let me know if the pacing is too slow or too fast. I want to give this story justice, but I don't want to it lag either.
> 
> Happy reading!


	4. Veela Power

     "Why are people just so…irritating?" Hermione huffs out as she flips over to lay on her stomach, her head buried in her pillow.

     Ginny has been sitting in silent awe for the past half hour as her friend goes on about no one in particular; at least that is what the older girl claims every time she is asked. If anyone else were to come to her like this Ginny would just shrug it off for teenage angst, but Hermione is a different story. She has never seen the brunette act so rashly. If the young Weasley were being honest with herself she would admit to having lost interest halfway. She knew it was useless to give advice when she did not know who the source of this extreme emotion is. Just as she is racking her mind on what excuse could remove her from her frightening roommate, Lavender Brown walks in with her arms folded over her chest.

     "Time to pay up, Granger," Lavender smirks as she beckons.

     Hermione whips her head around, rolling her eyes upon seeing who burst into the room. Hermione lays her head back on her pillow and hugs it with her arms in blatant refusal to give the intruder her attention. Ginny raises her eyebrows at Hermione's dismissive demeanor. She hardly ever sees her be impolite to anyone. Lavender walks up to the bed, eyes narrowed in determination, and grabs Hermione's ankles.

     Before she can pull, Hermione yells out, "Okay, okay, you virulent girl! Let...me...go!"

     Hermione's speech breaks as she attempts to wiggle free until Lavender decides she is satisfied and retracts her grasp. As the brunette stands, the other girl prances out of the room humming her satisfied tune. Hermione brushes her hands down her clothes. The last thing she wants is people seeing her disheveled.  _Especially certain people._

     Annoyance overtakes Hermione's features as Fleur sneaks into her thoughts yet again.

     "Why are you glaring at  _me_? She's the one who is kidnapping you," Ginny argues as she points to the door frame.

     In the midst of explaining the glare was not intended for her, Hermione hears Lavender clear her throat.

     "Oh, this is ridiculous," Hermione huffs.

     She marches out of the room and down to the Gryffindor common room with Lavender. Exhausted from her lack of sleep, Hermione does not think to ask where they are headed until they get within feet of the doors leading to the outside courtyard. She stops in her tracks as the memory of last week's disaster with Fleur returns.  _Get out of my head._

     Lavender looks back to usher the girl on, but is met with another wave of hesitance.

     "What is this about?" Hermione asks uneasily.

      Lavender retorts with a small scoff, "You scaring away a good date to the Yule Ball. Now you have to fetch me another one."

     Hermione's sardonic nature flares, "You have got to be joking. What unlucky soul gets to be charmed by you for the evening?"

     Lavender seems unfazed by the insult. She just grabs Hermione's wrist and tugs her outside, pointing across the courtyard, "Him."

     Hermione's mouth goes dry at the sight of the one in question. It takes her a moment to recover her senses enough to even reply, "Absolutely not."

     With every synapse firing off, Hermione turns to run away from the other source of her nightmares. She is stopped by Lavender's threat to tell everyone she knows about a particular event that involved Ron, Harry, a love-enchanted jewelry store in Hogsmeade, and a rather huge misunderstanding.  _She is like a rat. Watching everywhere._

     Hermione rushes past her oppressor with her jaw clenched, going straight for the one boy she had hoped to never talk to.  _At least he isn't surrounded by a sea of posse every day and night._ In fact, Hermione has often caught glimpses of him in the library. Never reading a book, just kind of lurking. Now it is her turn to lurk.

     It takes her a moment to approach the table where Viktor Krum sits while staring rigidly into space. His eyes snap to her own when she calls out his name. The intensity of his gaze makes her too uncomfortable to speak. They remain locked in silence until Hermione gets the courage to break the contact.

     "May I?" She motions to the bench opposite him.

     He nods and gives her that same slight smile she just knew she made up the time he walked past her on his way to put his name into the Goblet of Fire. It causes her cheeks to burn without her consent, making her all the more flustered about this entire situation.

     "Look, quite frankly, I-"

     Viktor interrupts, "You look nice."

     The compliment consisting of so few words sends Hermione over the edge. Every muscle in her body begins to hum. She is overcome by the desire to see if her nocturnal adventures did the Durmstrang champion any justice. Her eyes glaze over with a new-found lust despite the internal scream that is telling her to walk away. She tucks a piece of her brunette locks behind her ear out of nervous habit.

     He is talking, but she doesn’t hear anything. She is zoned in on watching the way his lips move. Her tongue darts out to wet her own. The same tingling falls between her legs as soon as her eyes land on the muscles demanding to be free under his dark brown uniform. Viktor seems to be unaware of the shift in her demeanor.

     He grabs one of Hermione’s hands and his last words rush over her, "Go to the ball with me," he clears his throat then adds, "please."

     Before Hermione has a chance to process the request her mouth blurts out a meager "Okay."

     Lavender, hovering like a vulture within earshot, squeals, "Are you kidding me?"

     The weight of her words makes her draw her hand away as Lavender's high dog-whistle-pitch snaps her out of the fog. Her eyes come alive once more, and she leans back with a new sense of composure. This aching sensation of something trying to break free stays melted into her bones, but she regains her thoughts just enough to speak again.

     "Viktor…look-" Hermione tries to be delicate, not wanting to hurt anyone's feelings, yet not wanting to commit to the very boy she could not stop, quite literally, dreaming about. The power he seems to hold over her frightens her.

     She cannot get her sentence out before he gets to his feet. His tall figure looms over her as he hooks his index finger under her chin. "No cold feet, Hermione."

     He tilts her face up and presses his cold lips to her own. Hermione does not make the act very hard for him since the close proximity has made that sensation flood into her very being yet again. After what was only seconds when she wished it would be eternity, he parts from her. Leaning farther down, he raises her hand from the cold stone and gives the back a small peck before simply walking away.

     Until another squeal reminds her she is not actually alone, "what the hell, Granger?"

     She winces as Lavender squeezes in next to her on the bench, but does not pay attention to the long speech she gives about 'messing with another's man'. A disgusted feeling claws at the edge of Hermione’s mind. She can’t place it. Something about the lingering feeling of that kiss feels off.

     Hermione decides to go to the library, leaving a not at all happy squealing girl behind to rant to someone else.

_How did he know my name?_

 

\---

\---

     The next few days consist of Hermione walking to and from classes with a listless demeanor. She take little notice of her friends' worried comments. Even Professor McGonagall asked about her well being when Hermione's attention was hard to grasp in her class. All the Gryffindor could think about was when she would next see Viktor, yet that same disgust would linger when he wasn’t around. After all of her classes he would be waiting to escort her to the next, and the fog would completely take over her mind again.

      Today is no exception.

     Fleur glances over her shoulder in time to see Hermione walk out of Arithmancy. Her eyes narrow when she sees Viktor hovering like a hawk. Something about him sullies her good mood. Well, not her "good" mood, more like her "okay despite the circumstances" mood. Hermione has been avoiding her. It would be easy enough to evade the her defenses were it not for that damn Durmstrang. Every time Fleur thinks she caught her alone, either in the library or outside on the grounds, he would be right around the corner.

     One of Fleur's friends smacks her lightly on the arm, poking fun at her for staring so blatantly. Her sister, standing adjacent to her in the circle of Beauxbaton girls, lets out an exasperated sigh.

     "When are you going to get over it, hmm? I don't understand why you were even interested. She's cute, but not worth all of this," Gabrielle points out. "She doesn't want to see you, yet the rest of this school would die for you. Just move on."

     Fleur's gaze does not move off of Hermione as she responds, "That is exactly what bothers me. Even girls at least get curious around me. But her it's like...nothing. She went mental on me and hasn't shown any interest since."

     Fleur turns her attention toward her friend, and also part-veela, Angeline, "Has that ever happened to you?"

     When Angeline shook her head Fleur felt offended, "What am I lacking that you have?"

     Angeline knows by Fleur's dark expression that her question is completely rhetorical and simply shrugs.

     "Why don't you find someone else to play with?” Her friend suggests, “Get your mind off of things.”

     She leaves the circle without satisfying them with an answer, afraid that she does not have one to give. That does not deter her sister's complaints. The younger Beauxbaton girl stalks behind Fleur until they are far away from the rest of the group's prying eyes. As soon as Fleur turns a corner, her sister snatches her wrist to stop her in her tracks.

     "Fleur. Get it together. You are embarrassing yourself," Gabrielle whispers.

     Instead of the usual chilled glare, fire ignites in the Fleur’s eyes.

     "Let me go."

     Gabrielle’s eyes widen at her sister's irrational behavior and does as she is told. However, she does not relent, "You never answered me before. When are you going to let this silly conquest go? This is embarrassing to the Delacour name. We do  _not_ pine. For anyone." As her sister continues, her hushed tone begins to heighten, " _you_  taught me that!"

     Fleur grits her teeth and speaks shortly, "Je ne sais pas1! Partez2!"

     As she continues on down the hall, Gabrielle stays put, but not without mumbling a few choice words towards her older sister. Fleur chooses to ignore it. She finds it much more important to figure out just where Hermione had gone. To her displeasure, she could not spot the brown curly locks amidst the sea of robes. Her veela keeps nagging at her. There is something she seems to be missing.

     Hermione’s actions in that classroom meant she had to have felt the pull of her thrall. Once that happens, she cannot just avoid her. That has never happened. This anomaly enticed Fleur a week ago, but now it is doing nothing more than infuriating her.

     Fleur's glare deepens, causing everyone in her line of sight to rush out of her way. Before she knows it, she is making a beeline to the Gryffindor common room. She stomps up to the fat lady's picture with a short, "Let me in."

     Although she manages to utter a "please" after her request, there is no kindness in her voice. The fat lady crosses her arms over her rather large bosom, "I shall not."

     Just as Fleur is about to argue, she notices a shadow rush past in her peripheral vision. She jerks her head to see Peeves floating with a grin plastered on his face. That grin quickly disappears, however, when her gaze bores through his tiny body. With a short grunt and quick look around he decides down is the best escape and disappears through the floor.

     "Woah," a male voice admires, "how'd you manage that?"

     She turns to face none other than Ron Weasley. Her veela sees opportunity. She instantly changes her demeanor. Faking a coy smile, she questions, "Do what?"

     His face turns a red so deep it nearly matches his hair. He stammers on about how awful Peeves can be, but Fleur pays no attention. She is too busy trying to keep the smile on her face from faltering. That is hard to do considering her low tolerance for how obnoxiously lack-wit boys seem to get in her presence.

_Abruti 3._ She cannot take anymore.

     Fleur interrupts, "Have you seen Hermione?"

     Ron does not seem offended by the interjection. Instead he develops a blank look on his face. All he manages is a small, helpless "no".

     Fleur tries her best not to show her irritation of how susceptible he is to her veela blood.  _Boys..._  "Mind me coming in for just a moment?"

     He looks from her to the fat lady, clearly debating on who he is more afraid of angering. He settles on the side of the female who isn’t trapped in a painting. Ron snakes past the blonde, pausing for a moment of awkward admiration when he gets close to her before remembering his task. He whispers the password. The fat lady's disdain is clear, but the picture opens to reveal the entrance to the Gryffindor common room.

     Fleur steps through after Ron and admires the coziness of their common room. He tells her to wait while he goes to find Hermione.

     She takes a seat on the couch in front of the brick fireplace. The heat from the flames feels welcoming on her skin and she gets a subtle whiff of cocoa in the air. She relaxes in her seat with a soft sigh and closes her eyes, allowing herself to get lost in the tranquility. Her veela purrs inside her chest.

     That peace ends a few minutes later when she opens her eyes. A mass of Gryffindor males are crowded around the fireplace staring right at her. A sense of dread descends upon her, and she rolls her eyes. She pinches the bridge of her nose in attempt to stop the quickly growing headache from this entire endeavor.

     Fleur mumbles to herself, "What am I doing?"

     The discussions between her and the other veelas all end the same: with them asking why she is wasting time on a girl. Although being inherently attracted towards both sexes, none of them have heard of a veela having a mate of the same sex. This fact seems to irritate her veela, but she pushes back against its will.

     As Fleur rises out of her seat and faces the hoard of boys, she writes her interest off as nothing more than childish persistence. After all, she hates to lose.  _That must be it._ She repeats that to herself all the way back to her quarters, determined to believe it. Her veela might make her go crazy if she doesn't.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) I don't know!  
> (2) Go away!  
> (3) Idiot


	5. Hermione in Hogsmeade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this isn't too much of a cliffhanger! It was getting longer than the other chapters, so I had to split it.  
> The bold italics signal that the veela is talking to Fleur.  
> Happy reading!

I.

"Hermione, wait up!"

Hermione turns to see Harry and Ron jogging to catch up with her as she is about to get onto one of the carriages that is taking the students to Hogsmeade. She has been careful to avoid the two ever since Rita Skeeter made some outrageous fallacies in last week's Daily Prophet. Although she would normally be honored to make the front page, she was not keen on being portrayed as a romantic accessory for someone else's success. Viktor did not take the article very well either. Hermione thought she might have a chance of him not knowing considering his reading skills are not anywhere near his athletic ability…but word has a way of getting around in the wizarding school.

Ron goes right past Hermione with nothing more than a pat on her shoulder and an out of breath thanks. When Hermione raises an eyebrow at Harry in silent confusion, he rubs the back of his neck and admits in a shamed voice, "He didn't want to wait for the next carriage."

Hermione scoffs, "Oh, and here I thought it was because he wanted to actually talk."

Harry mumbles something about him not wanting to talk to anyone these days, but Hermione's attention gets drawn back to the carriage before she can respond. Viktor appears from inside with his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed in on Ron.

Malice drips from Viktor’s tongue, "This carriage is full."

The bumbling redhead cranes his neck to look past Viktor's tall stature. The carriage is completely empty. When he glances back to Hermione for help, he notices her eyes shoot to the ground.

Ron backs away so quickly that he almost trips over his own two feet. Once he is out of the way Viktor motions for Hermione to enter the carriage, and she does not hesitate to climb aboard.

Her uncharacteristic obedience has Harry and Ron staring with their lips parted in disbelief as the carriage takes off. They stand there until the snowfall blocks their view.

“Much good you are, Harry,” Ron spats. “Real Hogwarts champion. Can’t even help out your best mate.”

He stomps off to create distance between them. Harry, with no energy to argue, just sighs and takes his glasses off to wipe some fallen snow from the lenses.

 

 

II.

All of this is missed by the lovesick girl in the carriage. Her eyes are fixed on Viktor who is looking straight forward with a blank stare. She timidly inches to the side to close the small gap between them. A jolt of electricity passes through her from the simple contact.

A churn of disgust follows. Barely noticeable, like one of those cold chills one gets for no reason. Gone too soon to put much thought into it. Not that Hermione’s mind can afford space for much thought. Around Viktor she could only focus on the crisp smell of his cologne, the way his muscles bulge through his red fur coat, or the depth of his brown eyes. Just typical girl stuff. Which didn’t happen to be the least bit typical for Hermione Granger.

 

 

III.

They stayed in the same position for the entire ride to Hogsmeade. She must have been so enveloped with the Durmstrang boy that she did not feel the carriage come to a stop at the village's entrance nor remember how she managed to get to the Three Broomsticks.

All she knows is she is now sitting at one of the booths while she waits for Viktor to come back from the restroom. She starts to get worried and considers her options. Maybe she should go look for him.

Her train of thought is broken by a sudden guest sliding into her booth to sit across from her.

"Hello, ma chérie."

Hermione hears the smirk in that French lit before she even looks up. Her eyes grow cold.

The glare Fleur receives causes her natural demeanor to falter. She decides that, for now at least, it would be best to keep her teasing to a minimum. She barely manages to get out what she came to say.

"I need your help," Fleur implores. "Can you just give me five minutes?"

Fleur does not give Hermione a chance to refuse. She is out of the booth before the brunette can open her mouth. While leaning down to give Hermione a peck on the cheek she slips a piece of parchment into her robes.

This goes unnoticed by the young Gryffindor whose mind starts to go haywire when Fleur's lips make contact with her skin. Something in that kiss has her mind screaming for help. For a brief moment nothing about this situation seems right.

Hermione watches her go with a wistful expression. She cannot seem to focus on anything other than the way that blue material moves against Fleur's hips.

Much to her displeasure, red cloth suddenly blocks Hermione's view of her exit. Her complaints die in her throat, however, when she sees who the material belongs to.

"Friend of yours?" Viktor questions as he takes the seat that Fleur was occupying moments ago.

Hermione shakes her head in fervent denial. He gives a curt nod and goes back to eating the soup that was placed in front of him just before he excused himself. Hermione looks down at her own bowl. A silent battle rattles in her head against the haze that once again clouds her mind. It seems to be in vain when a few moments later she cannot remember why she was ever upset. Now her eyes are set on Viktor's lips as he slurps up his food.

 

 

IV.

Fleur sees Viktor approaching as she is about to take her leave. Before she knows it, her feet carry her to the bar instead of the door. Side effect to her rather ornery veela. She barely takes notice of the man who gives up his seat for her, eyes burning holes into the back of Viktor's head at the booth.

"Thought you were moving onto something new.”

Fleur looks to her left to see that Angeline took it upon herself to check in on her. She simply shrugs as her friend invites herself to sit on the stool next to her.

Fleur does not pay her any mind. Instead, she leans across the counter and tilts her head at the barkeep with a small smile. Much to her delight, he immediately stops taking another customer's order to service the gorgeous ladies that appeared at the other end of his bar.

Angeline's eyebrows shoot up in surprise as Fleur orders a firewhiskey, but she keeps her opinion to herself. Every time Fleur does something reckless like this Angeline at least gets a good show from it. That in mind, she decides to entertain the blonde's spontaneous nature by partaking herself.

“Make that two firewhiskies.”

After they clink their shot glasses together, the two girls know what they are in for. The firewhiskey burns as the liquid runs down their throats. One of the more obvious traits about veelas is their insatiable desire to win. The challenge glimmering in Angeline's eyes spurs Fleur on. Without even looking at the barkeep she motions for two more shots.

"Vous buvez comme un trou1," Angeline proclaims, "but tonight I will keep up."

Fleur lets out a laugh that rings harmoniously through the pub, "We will see about that. How do they say…" Fleur raises her glass. "'Bottoms up'?"

...

...

...

1) “Vous buvez comme un trou” : You drink like a fish

 

 

V.

Hermione tries her best to ignore the cheering crowd that has centered at the bar, but her curiosity gets the best of her. Despite her fake fixation on the soup in front of her she cannot help how she keeps looking past her shoulder to see what is going on. Normally she would leave in fear of being mixed up in something that could go quickly south with this many drunk men in one place, but Viktor does not appear to be ready to leave anytime soon.

The fact that what _he_ wants to do is the reason for her staying makes her frown. She would never have factored that in before. Just as Hermione begins to question her actions Viktor stands.

He has noticed Hermione’s quick glances. That he allowed, knowing he could not push her too much. However, the frown that has crossed over her features concerns him. His movements are abrupt when he stands and offers her his hand. The silent motion is not a request.

Whatever Hermione has been worried about seems so small now that Viktor locks eyes with her. That stony stare was just a front. Hermione sees past that rigid exterior. Her knees grow weak under his gaze. The brunette is surprised she can even stand. She does not expect the harsh tug that Viktor gives as soon as their hands are linked.

Fleur, now sitting on top of the bar with Angeline to separate herself from the rambunctious crowd, notices the pair nearing the door. Her nose scrunches in disgust at the sulk Hermione is wearing.  _She can tell me to sod off, but she pouts at him?_ Fleur shoots back her third firewhiskey with ease before grabbing the closest man nearby, jerking him toward her by his collar.

Hermione steals one last glance back at the bar and finally sees Fleur atop the counter. She should have known, with all these men gathered, that Beauxbatons were behind it. Although it does not surprise her to see the French girl so close to a random man, something about it makes her frown return. Hermione does not realize that she is focusing on the way those full lips are brushing against his ear as Fleur whispers something to him until her cheeks become hot.

Blue eyes glance her way and suddenly Hermione’s body becomes heavy. Everyone starts turning in slow motion before fading away. Only Fleur remains. Hermione hears the angelic whisper, the hot breath against her skin, but she cannot make out the words.

Another tug from Viktor jolts her out of her trance. The music rings through her ears twice as loud as before, and her skin is practically on fire. His action makes her turn forward again, and she looks down at Viktor's callused hand in her own.

Viktor halts just long enough to open the door. That is all the time Fleur needs. A smirk sets into her features as the drunken man shouts, "Hey, Bulgarian!"

This causes Viktor's grip on Hermione's hand to tighten. She cannot see his face from behind, but he slowly closes the bar door. Everyone grows quiet. The only sound is the creaking of the rusted door bolts. Not a breath is released until he turns around. His shoulders are pulled back, head held high, and eyes cold.

"I heard the French can drink you Slavics under the table," the man slurs.

 

 

VI.

Fleur watches Viktor with a calculating stare. Her eyes flare when she notices Hermione wince under his grip. It takes all of her willpower to not hop off the counter. She could never be that rash. Instead, she picks up the new shot poured and tips it his way in a silent dare.

From what she has noticed of the Durmstrang, his pride outweighs any decent judgement he might be capable of. So it does not surprise Fleur when he marches through the parted crowd to where they sit in the center. His shoulder lays into the drunken man's when he passes him, causing the man to stumble back.

Angeline scoots to the side to put space between her and Viktor, not wanting to be anywhere near him if Fleur decides she has had enough. She taps Hermione on the shoulder then pats the space next to her on the bar. Hermione wears a sheepish smile as she tilts her head toward Viktor's steal grip. This makes Angeline raise an eyebrow, her expression full of disapproval.

The barkeep pours a line of four shots a piece for the new contestants. He does not seem to care about their well-being when they are entertaining all of his guests so well.

Viktor and Fleur clink their first shots together. Hermione is surprised the glass did not crack under the force. She watches in silence as they shoot one after another. Fleur pauses at her last one to take advantage of Viktor being distracted. She sends Hermione a wink before tossing her head back. Hermione hides her face against Viktor's back in a vain attempt to fight off the heat creeping up her cheeks.

Before the barkeep can even ask if they are done, Viktor slams his fist on the bar. This forces another wave of silence amongst the rowdy group.

"Another!”

At this, the crowd roars, and Fleur's steel blue eyes settle into a dangerous glimmer as her smirk grows.  _Leave it to a famous Seeker to make a better show than me._  If he was not the reason she could not see Hermione, she would admit to being a little impressed by his boldness.

Fleur has no doubt she can win. Angeline would have been the closest thing Fleur could have to an actual challenge. With the veela blood coursing through her veins she learned a long time ago that she can out-drink any normal mortal twice over.

That is precisely why Viktor's grip loosened on Hermione after the second round. Fleur notices immediately, having been waiting for that moment the entire time, and offers Hermione her hand.

Something shatters within Hermione. A glass ceiling she did not know was there. As she looks at the dainty fingers stretched toward her, she does not feel shame over noticing someone other than Viktor. She feels little for him at all.

Then rage sets in. Hermione grits her teeth, and her eyes shoot to the Bulgarian who is swaying in front of her. Hermione does not know why she hates him, but the emotion is stronger than her inquisitive nature.

Fleur's smirk drops as she catches the fire in Hermione's eyes. Hermione grabs the nearest bottle and swings for the back of Viktor’s head. Before it can make contact, Fleur jumps off the counter and grabs her wrist midair. She expects a struggle as she steps between the unsuspecting Durmstang and rather angry Gryffindor.

Hermione drops her hand back to her side and averts her gaze. Fleur takes the bottle with her other hand, but keeps her grip on Hermione. The soft, delicate hands are a welcomed change. Fleur leans in to talk against Hermione's ear while her thumb rubs circles on the girl's hand. She would do anything to get closer, but she does not want to scare Hermione away. This is the first time they have even made contact without Hermione snapping. She hesitates before speaking. This is the second time anyone has put her at a loss for words. Fleur could not concentrate properly when the smell of lavender was intoxicating her far more than the firewhiskey.

The hesitation to speak is something Fleur will always regret. A beat later there is a loud thump behind her and the crowd falls silent.

One of the men had taken it upon themselves to finish what Hermione had started. Viktor lay still on the floor in a jumbled mess. The man cheers with the bottle raised, and the bar breaks out into a riot.

Panic settles into Hermione.

“Viktor?” She reaches for him, but Fleur keeps her from doing so, pulling her toward the door.

“No,” Hermione shouts above the roars of the crowd. “We can’t just leave him! He’ll get hurt!”

Fleur’s pull on her wrist is stronger this time, and almost makes Hermione budge.

“You’ll get hurt if we don’t leave _now_ , ma chérie.2”

Hermione jerks her hand away, “I’m not leaving without him!”

“Why do you care for him so dearly?” Fleur’s voice raises as she loses her patience. A man is unfortunate enough to stumble into her path, and she shoves him clear across the room. Angeline is at her side in an instant.

Hermione shouts over Angeline’s pleas to run. “It is the right thing to do, and you know it, Fleur Delacour!”

Fleur doesn’t know what stuns her more: the use of her full name or the challenge to her character. Her anger ebbs away just enough to think rationally. It would do no good to be witness to the Durmstrang champion’s death, and it doesn’t appear Hermione would ever forgive her.

With a huff and roll of her eyes, Fleur jerks one of Viktor’s arms up then calls Angeline to assist her.

This isn’t going to be easy. Fleur looks at the girl in front of her as she hoists Viktor up. A familiar ache settles in her chest as Hermione’s eyes do not meet hers. They are too busy focusing only on him yet again.

Oh, the things she does for her veela.

She feels a wave of irritation as the veela scoffs within her mind. **_Don’t act heartless, humaine 3. It is not a good look on you. Besides, you aren’t fooling anyone._**

An alarm goes through her body, sending goosebumps up her arms. **_Duck!_**

A bottle nearly collides with her face, but swerves midair at the last minute. Shocked, she looks around to see Hermione’s unsheathed wand. **_Chivalry isn’t dead, I see._**

She offers the Gryffindor a tight smile as thanks, silently willing her veela to shut up. The small smile she gets in return seems to satisfy it. Fleur feels it recoil into the depths of her mind, finally allowing her to have full awareness for the task at hand.

Angeline looks between the two girls, waiting for one of them to break eye contact, but she finally loses her patience. “Shall we be off, les tourtereaux4?”

Hermione starts toward the door with a startle, and Fleur follows while cutting her eyes at her friend. Angeline does not dare to turn her head her way. First, they get out of this mess and drop the Durmstrang outside. Then, she will deal with Fleur’s moody nonsense.

…

…

…

2) “ma chérie” : my dear

3) “humaine” : human

4) “les tourtereaux” : love birds


	6. Choices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry in advance for the inevitable mistakes. If anyone wants to beta, or just talk about fandom things, I made a tumblr (@tiny-shroom). It's in its baby stage, but don't worry, soon it will be filled with nonsense.
> 
> Happy reading!

I.

They shuffle over to a bench across the street and perch Viktor’s limp body on it, hoping to make him appear as if he is taking a rest. Their location gives them a prime view of the madhouse that the Three Broomsticks quickly became after their departure. Fleur and Angeline share a look as a chair comes flying out of a once perfectly good window.

Hermione says, “I better go find someone to take him back to the castle. Can you watch over him?”

Fleur’s gut reaction is to say no, she cannot watch the man who has found himself in the precarious position of being her worst enemy. For once, it is her veela that tames her this time. **_Say yes._**

Her teeth grind as she fusses back in her head. She knows it is right, but she would like to pretend she has at least a bit of autonomy.

Angeline beats her to it. “Of course we will.”

Much to Fleur’s displeasure, Angeline is the one who gets Hermione’s smile before she rushes off to go find help. She does not have a chance to speak, however, because Angeline whips around to face her.

“You need to pull yourself together,” she says. “I understand the importance of finding your mate, but you will never win her over if you spend all of your time competing with…with…” Angeline motions to Viktor with a disgusted face, as if she is afraid to even touch him. “ _that_.”

“Not in her eyes! Every time I get near her, she freaks out!”

Fleur closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. A Delacour does not lose their cool in public. That promotes weakness. This time when she speaks, her voice is quiet and even.

“What do you suggest I do? You saw the way she looks at him. She’s a different person when she’s around him.”

Her veela hisses what she cannot say aloud. **_She is not our mate when she’s around him._**

The pity that settles in Angeline’s eyes is too much for Fleur to take.

“Just go, Angeline.”

II.

By the time Hermione gets back with a group of Durmstrang men, she is surprised to see Fleur sitting on the bench beside Viktor with Angeline nowhere to be found.

A thick Bulgarian accent accuses, “What the hell happened to him? What did you do?”

Fleur stands, head tilted up and eyes narrowed. All of the men have at least three inches on her, but she relies on her demeanor to even the playing field.

Before she can unleash all of her pent-up frustration on them, Hermione steps in the middle and says, “I told you, a man knocked him out cold, and Fleur is the one that saved him! Shouldn’t you be more concerned about getting him to the hospital wing?”

The Durmstrang replies, “He smells like a drunken barn owl. We cannot take him to your school.”

Another one chimes in, “The first task is next week! Karkaroff needs to examine him personally.”

The first one gives Hermione a long look then grimaces, talking to his friend, “Fine, but Karkaroff will not be happy. _You_ are going to tell him.”

The group moves past Hermione and Fleur to tend to their champion. The tallest one, standing well over six feet, lifts Viktor over his shoulder with a grunt. Without a word to the girls, they start toward the carriage pickup point.

III.

Hermione collapses onto the bench with a long sigh of relief and tilts her head back to look at the sky. The orange and pink hues cast by the setting sun means they have little time before the last carriage leaves them behind in town. The exhaustion that sets over her makes her have little care about the details of her return to the castle.

Her peaceful thoughts are broken when Fleur sits on the other end of the bench, leaving at least a foot between them. Hermione leaves her head reclined, but turns it to look at Fleur. A long moment of silence passes between them.

“Thank you for helping him.”

IV.

The words stun Fleur. She does not know what she expected, but gratitude wasn’t even close.

Her veela’s thoughts seem to reply for her, “I did it for you.”

Hermione sits up straight with a shake of her head. Her irritation is tempered down by her exhaustion, but it is still enough for Fleur to notice.

“Why do you say things like that?”

Knowing she has ruined whatever moment of peace they shared, Fleur sees no reason to hold back. “Why do you follow him like a puppy?”

Hurt flashes across Hermione’s face. Then indecision. Ultimately, Fleur’s words push her away. She is forced to watch Hermione get up and walk away. Yet again.

**_Go after her._ **

A wave of dominance from the veela forces Fleur off of the bench.

“Hermione, wait,” Fleur says as she rushes to her.

The words fall on deaf ears as Hermione rounds the corner. Fleur’s long legs make it easy to catch up, and she pulls on her wrist to stop her.

“Bloody hell, Fleur,” Hermione exclaims. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

All color falls from Fleur’s face, and her hand drops its grip. The veela makes the knots in her stomach feel like they’re weighed down with stones. She is at a loss of how to respond. This girl is too young to understand the truth.

Fleur doesn’t dare speak above a whisper, not meeting Hermione’s eyes, “You need to stay away from him.”

“I need to stay away from both of you!”

Hermione’s fingers thread through her hair, and she shakes her head.

“I was fine before you two came bursting into my life without permission,” she continues. “Why me? You can both have anyone in this entire school. Everyone falls at your feet, and I’m the only one that tells you to stay away! Why can’t you respect that?”

Desperation kicks in, and Fleur feels the veela’s adrenaline go into overdrive. **_This cannot happen. Our mate cannot reject-_**

“He has you under a spell. Can’t you feel it? Some pull that isn’t supposed to be?”

“All I can feel right now is whatever you’re doing to me, Fleur! I can’t sleep without seeing you. I don’t know what you have done, but I can’t take it anymore!”

Tears brim in Hermione’s eyes. **_Hold her. Comfort her._** _No._

Fleur’s jaw clenches and her shoulders roll back as she holds her emotions in check. It takes all of her willpower to not pull Hermione into her chest. She feels her steel heart begin to crack. Her closed throat doesn’t allow her words to come easy.

“I’m sorry, ma chérie. You will see no more of me until you wish it.” Fleur pauses. “Please, just let me walk you to the last carriage. It is late, and neither of us should be alone.”

Her veela sets into a rage, but she pushes it back into the depths of her mind. She can’t be the reason for her mate’s tears anymore.

V.

Hermione surprises herself when she nods, “okay.”

She turns around and starts toward the pickup area. The entire walk is silent, save for Fleur’s shoes clacking along the cobblestone. The air between them is filled to the brim with tension, but it isn’t awkward. She doesn’t feel out of place next to her.

When they finally reach the carriage, Fleur bids her a soft farewell.

“How will you get back?”

“I will find my way, ma chérie.”

Hermione looks absolutely puzzled. She and Fleur might have had words, but it is not rational for her to stay out in the cold.

“This is the last carriage. Where will you go?”

Fleur wears a tight smile as she shrugs her shoulders. _The nerve of this girl…_ Hermione rolls her eyes and pushes the carriage door open further.

“Fleur Delacour, will you stop being dramatic and get into the carriage?”

The raised eyebrow and parted lips Hermione gets in response makes her sigh and add, “Please?”

The ride is as silent as the walk had been, but it was much harder to avoid Fleur in the confined space. Hermione slowly feels the anger ebbing away every time she chances a glance at Fleur and finds her looking out the window.

About the fifth time Hermione looks over, blue eyes meet hers, and she feels _it_. That odd sensation that warms her cheeks. It is different from Viktor. His aura creeps up her neck, raising the hairs on her skin. Something about Fleur makes her feel calm yet excited at the same time.

The feeling makes Hermione uncomfortable because it isn’t something she can make sense of. They aren’t telling her something, and it frustrates her that she is the only one that seems to be in the dark.

Fleur’s lips turn up, and Hermione realizes she has yet to look away. She doesn’t exactly want to. If she is honest with herself, she would get up, throw a leg over to straddle Fleur, and kiss her senseless.

Hermione closes her eyes to gain control over her thoughts. The carriage jerks as it comes to a halt, and she nearly falls into Fleur’s lap. Delicate hands grip her shoulders to stop her short.

Thankfully, Fleur seems to want to save her more embarrassment, quickly letting go and saying, “Until next time, ma chérie.”

Hermione stares after her as she leaves the carriage, caught between feelings of befuddlement, resentment, and arousal.

The driver hits the top of the carriage and yells, “Oi! Are yah getting’ out sometime tonight?”

After muttering her apologies, Hermione quickly stumbles down the wooden steps. Her feet barely touch the snow-covered ground before the man ushers the horses away. It doesn’t take long for Hermione to be left alone in the cold dark night. She looks toward the flickering candles of the castle.

All she wanted when she started this day was some butterbeer. Harry is supposed to be the one with a complicated life.

She gasps, eyes growing wide. _Harry!_ She rushes off toward the castle to find him. He made her promise she would help him figure out his dragon problem.


End file.
